


when they dream

by clokcwork_dragon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Canonical Character Death, Family Loss, divine fury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26599690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clokcwork_dragon/pseuds/clokcwork_dragon
Summary: In ancient ruins, a dragon sleeps, guarding his greatest treasure.[rated T for character death, violence, etc.]
Relationships: Flayn & Seteth (Fire Emblem)
Kudos: 29





	when they dream

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a rework of an older fic of mine, that was set in a different fandom. But I love the concept of divine fury, of brewing anger and of deities being wronged by humans so now they seek revenge. And FE3H is the perfect fandom to play around with these concepts! 
> 
> Basically just dragon!Seteth/Cichol guarding his sleeping bby and thinking of what they have lost.

Cichol slumbers.

The wind blows fiercely around the ruins of the temple, the depths of which he has claimed as his resting place. It howls like a hungry wolf, and even in the darkness that surrounds him he can feel the trees bending under its claws, the leaves tearing from the branches. It feels like thousands of little wounds scattered across his body, the suffering of nature echoing deep in his bones like a mournful song.

Disaster brews in the air, dark clouds obscuring the waning sun.

And yet he cares not. Nothing matters anymore, other than the precious bundle of life resting amidst the curves of his serpentine body.

Cethleann sleeps peacefully, surrounded by a soft green halo, the light ebbing and flowing with the slow rhythm of her heartbeat. A heartbeat too slow, indicating she has been weakened greatly. Her frail body seems even smaller, covered as it is by her saintly garments. Those garments he and her mother had sewn once upon a time, so long ago. Garments once as pristine and white as the virgin snow, now tarnished with her own divine blood.

If he had any morsel of strength left within him, he would weep for his daughter’s shed blood. For her pain, for what she had lost. Yet he has wept enough, until tears would no longer come to water the scorched earth beneath his feet. Until the pain dulled, and only a bottomless pit remained, a void sheltering him like a heavy homespun blanket. He was numb to all, but the precious weight of his daughter’s faltering life, the life that he had to protect. He could not let it be snuffed out, like the lives of his people, of his love, of his Mother.

So he flies, and flies until there is no more blood, no more steel and fire to burn his wings. He hides in an ancient temple at the edge of the world; a temple once dedicated to his own Mother, now abandoned and overrun with weed and nesting animals. It’s all the better; all the more secure, the further away from those wretched humans.

Inside the winding caverns beneath the temples, he has made his new home. His strength abandoning him at last, as he collapses on the cold, hard ground with Cethleann shielded underneath his wings. He curls around her, puts a giant paw in front of her so his claws form a barrier between her and the world. The world that has treated her so terribly, so unfairly. She has given it her blessed Light, and all that she has been given in return is pain, loss, war, nightmares.

 _Never again_ , he swears. Never again will they hurt his beloved child, his light. He may die fighting them if needed be, but even on his last breath he will assure all those who would desire to lay a finger on his Cethleann, will descend into Hell with him. Even if it’s the last thing he does, he _will_ protect her.

Alas, his powers have been diminished by his wounds and his desperate flight to safety. By his sharing his very life force with Cethleann, just to keep her alive. Just to ensure her wounds will hear a little faster, that the pain will be eased ever so slightly. He knows, as grim a realisation as it is, that he cannot fight in his current state. He needs to rest and regain his strength, he and Cethleann both. And when that is done…

…only then, they will go back home. Only then, will the Earth Dragon descend upon the ruins of Zanado, quenched with the blood of his kin. Only then will he strike alike an avenging angel, destroying those who took everything from him. Then, and only then, will humankind know the true wrath of a god.

But until then, rest he must.

So Cichol slumbers.

And Cichol waits.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Feel free to leave a kudos or even a comment, it means a lot!


End file.
